They Call Me Schrodinger
by 2muchofagoodthing
Summary: Sam’s excat once again puts paw to pen and writes Chapter 11: That “Loaded” Question
1. Chapter 1

**They Call Me "Schrodinger"**

Two "diary entries" with a cats-eye view of life. "Enigma" episode.

They call me Schrodinger. I am a male orange and white tabby cat.

I have lived with my person for five summers, and she has treated me well for the most part. She speaks to me and sometimes touches me when I wish her to. My person touches my fur and scratches under my chin. This is pleasurable to me. If I please I flip on my back and stretch out, and she scratches my belly also. She calls me strange and wonderful names and speaks with a soft voice. When she does this I lower my eyelids and look at her. She calls this "love eyes." Sometimes I lie on the arm of my chair and tuck in my paws and lower my head and am content with that.

She who calls herself my owner – Sam -- gives me dry, crunchy bits that taste good, and fresh water in bowls. She also gives me other food such as cheese and pieces of chicken. Soft food that smells and tastes of fish and meat is sometimes given.

I used to find food that would flee from me, also – the vole and the mouse. Sometimes the sun moved far while I crouched near a hole. I did not put a paw down the hole, only waited. When the food appeared, I attacked it with my strong jaws and ripped the meat from the bones. It was warm and good. I brought gifts of food to my person, but she did not accept them. I will bring no more.

I can not bring more because I am now what is called an "indoor cat." This is so because my person is often away for nights and days. Another woman feeds me then. The food is good, but the attention is not. What is my due is not given, and my world has been made small.

The soft, moist grass no longer bends beneath my paws. I cannot walk where I will, where I live or where others of my kind live, nor do I rest outside on the warm gray stones or the hood of a car newly stilled. The tall white door never opens at my bidding.

Instead, I sit on the sill of my window and raise my nose to the scent and feel of soft breezes, and watch. I watch for those who trespass my land. When I see them I give voice to show my displeasure. At first they stop, but then they walk on. One time I gave voice to a flock of black birds pecking about the grass of my land, but they showed no fear of me – no fear of Schrodinger, the Great Hunter.

In the winter, when the sun is weak and the air no longer warm, and the cold white stuff covers the hard ground, I lie for many long hours in the warm house, and rest and dream. Sometimes I dream of long ago, of soft small bodies near me, of warmth and my mother's milk.

When she is home, she who calls me her cat often urges me to her bed. Sometimes I do go, stretching out on the warm blankets, where she scratches and strokes me until her hand rests heavy on my side. Sometimes I choose not to go. I do as I wish. Am I a dog, that I should obey?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Some time has passed since my last words.

I live now in a land of plenty, among gentle folk called the Nox, and I sometimes choose to roam the forests wherein. My person is now Narim, who has loved and been loved by Sam. I have been given as a token of that love.

This is how it became so.

One day I was taken by my person, Sam, to a place where no other animal dwelt. It was a place of gray, with no light within like the sun that so often warmed me at my home. She showed me to one called Narim as an example of something from her world. This was offensive to me, as I am not a thing to be displayed at whim.

I was a curiosity and an amusement to the man, who had not seen any animal for generations of his kind. At first I did not wish the feel of his hands upon my fur, but soon I sensed him to be a kind and gentle man, and then his ministrations were welcome. It was like in days past, when my person gave to me what is every cat's right.

It was time to leave this world, the only one I had ever known. The man Daniel, my new person, Narim, and my new people had gathered in what is called the "gate room." A woman called Lya, a woman with nest-like hair, strange to me, appeared from within the water ring. Bad men with what is called guns tried to stop us, but Lya made us to disappear. Then we went through the watery ring to my new home. It was a thing that caused my fur to bristle, but I was safe within the arms of Narim.

This is my story. I am Schrodinger, the cat.


	2. Chapter 2

I will tell now of my recent Time of Great Pain, when I almost slept the Deep Sleep from which there is no awakening.

I, Schrodinger, was stalking a squirrel-like creature amidst the woods of my new home, where the trees grow tall and touch the sky. Slowly, quietly, with great skill and cunning I crept forward...I stopped...I stared...I moved...I paused...I proceeded, feeling my strong muscles flex beneath my thick coat. My splayed paws landed soundlessly on the soft and yielding forest floor. The creature continued its mindless ways, unaware that its life would soon cease and it would be as food and meat to me. I tensed and readied my leap, and never did my golden eyes leave that which would soon be no more...

Suddenly there came a great and fierce cry, and a creature called a Fenri hovered above, its strong wings beating the air to wind. In appearance it was a flying monster, hideous to behold; not even in the worst of my dreams, when my whiskers twitch in terror, have I seen such a one. Its teeth were like icicles that hang from the caves in winter, its eyes large and glistening. I ran under a fallen log, my fur upraised and my tail bushed in fright of the beast.

Its talons found me, and pierced far and deep into my flesh, and great was the pain within me as I was carried up, and up, far above the tree-tops. Beneath me the land that I knew as my own grew small. Then, suddenly, another of its kind attacked, and the creatures fought for me, their prize and prey. Long, sharp teeth found my flesh and that which is of this earth loomed large again as I swept downward. I struggled with a strength born of desperation, with all the might I could command. Then I was falling, and falling, and then all was dark and nothingness. I felt the ebb of my life-force. Was this the Deep Sleep, from which there is no awakening? I wondered, and then I wondered no more.

How long it was thus is a thing unknown. Then I felt a small life-beginning that grew first to a pulse, then to a breath, and then to a power. Three of the Nox were above me, and with crossed hands and closed eyes they brought me back, back to my being again. Even with the lids of my eyes closed I saw and felt a golden warmth like the noon sun of a summer's day, and my wholeness returning. All pain – indeed, all wounds – were gone.

Their task done, one of the strange ones tenderly lifted me and carried me to Narim, my person, in the city set in the clouds. The eyes of Narim were wet with what is called tears as he took me from the Nox and gave them thanks.

Since then the kindness and ministrations of Narim have increased. My fur has become smooth and supple with his many strokings, and my ears now hear often the sweet love-words that are a cat's right to hear always. Sometimes I look deep within the brown eyes of my person and slowly reach a paw to show the depth of my caring in return.

Such things recent have made me to ponder profoundly the life of a feline. It was during these ponderings that I have made this decision: I desire a mate. How I told Narim of this is as follows:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Narim,

I am Schrodinger, whom you call your cat. No doubt your surprise will be great to read my words. I write because you have not an understanding of my speech.

You have been kind, and the bond between us is great. Still, I have need of another to share this life and the good things wherein. And so, I ask you to procure a mate for me from another world. Not for the giving and taking of pleasure only, understand, although that would be a part, but for a companion with which to share the wonders of life, and a warmth in my old age long years from now, when my blood will run cool and slow.

I care not if she be short or long-furred, tabby, calico or tiger – only that she possess youth, a spirit strong, and a desire to love and be loved. Since I desire issue, she must be one who yearns to bear and nurse young, to populate this strange and wonderful land with others of our kind.

Should you follow these my wishes, I will give the gift of my continued affection and loyalty, many "kisses," and the paw of love always.

This day I set my paw-print, as evidence that it is I, Schrodinger, who sets forth these words and request.

oooo

O


	3. Chapter 3

I will tell of a thing both great and marvelous. My person, Narim, in response to my request, has procured for me a mate, the likes of which I have seen only in the most pleasant of my dreams.

"Patches" is the name wherein she is called, and by which I have instructed my person to entitle her. She is a short-haired, wonderful, "womanly" calico, all that I could wish for and more.

She is at present stretched out on the couch's top pillow, in the sun, her eyes closed and her luscious mouth drawn up into the smile of sleep. Her silken whiskers are the longest I have seen, and the fur under her chin is softer than the fluff of a milkweed pod on a late summer's day. Pink here, and rose there, is the color of her nose. The little triangles of her ears, tattered a bit from her litter-mates a year past, are at rest now, a thing not often seen since her hearing is as acute as her interest in life.

That which makes her a calico – the liquid pools of orange and black against a background white as milk – are a study unto themselves. Suffice it to say that a cartographer would find it a joy to map them, from the charcoal smudge that gives her mouth another dimension, to the orange oval on her rounded rump.

The tail she possesses is a thing most wondrous, giving forth a speech all its own. It raises high and proud around those of other species, or presents itself fluffed and flirty while alone with me. It waves languidly at times when its owner saunters slowly toward her food dish. Late at night, when the moons are full and our person asleep, its nether regions dance the dance of a cobra to a snake charmer. It is then that I move alongside her and groom her with my rough and able tongue.

My love says the time of mating will be some two weeks hence. It is a thing I anticipate much – the giving and receiving of pleasure, and the creation of little ones, the issue of my body and that of my mate's.

Patches says she is happy here, with me and in the company of our person, Narim, and I am glad of that. That he also is enamored of her is a surety. We are, indeed, putty in her paws.

We should have many a year with which to share life. Thus may it be.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my diary entries, nor "treats,"

nor any other recompense.

**An Announcement**

Two months have now passed since my last words were set to paper.

It is with great joy that I proclaim this good news: Patches is with kittens. Yes, I, Schrodinger, the Great Hunter, will soon be father as well.

The belly of my love swells sweetly with our issue, a thing wondrous to us. Daily I put gentle paw to her flesh and feel the tiny movements therein.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Didn't Want to "Sing" Soprano**

I feel compelled to write of another happening.

Narim, our person, was speaking to another of his species while I lay dozing on his lap, receiving the ministrations that are my due.

"It will have to be done soon," I heard his deep voice say. I felt his eyes upon me. "Before things get out of hand." Sleep quickly left and my ears perked.

His friend agreed. "If the instrument is sharp, it will work well...and if it is done correctly, there will be no blood."

These words caused my fur to bristle and my whiskers to dance. I, Schrodinger, did not want to meow soprano, so I vacated the lap of my person with great haste. But where to go, and where to hide? All doors to freedom were closed. I looked right, I looked left, I looked up and down, seeking a place of refuge. The best I could do was to hide under the bed of the guest room, quivering in fright and in concern of my manhood.

Several times I saw the feet of Narim as he sought me, and heard his voice call my name. I spoke not in return.

I stayed therein for some time. I thirsted, I hungered, but still I persevered. Patches, my queen, brought to me what little she could carry in her mouth, to give me sustenance.

Time passed, and my eyelids grew heavy with impending slumber. Then I succumbed. My body jerked and twitched and I awoke often, assailed by dreams most terrible.

The next thing I knew my body was being pulled across the expanse of floor, and captured within the strong hands of my person, and carried to where it was not my desire to go. I fought valiantly, with all my might, for the sake not only of myself but for generations of my kind yet to find life.

He landed me on his lap, and what is usually a place of joy became a place of torture. The hands of Narim's friend held me firmly on my back. Desperate, I curled my bushed tail around my nether regions protectively. My speech became loud...I hissed and spat...I struggled...

It was of no use. The instrument loomed large over me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever was to happen, would happen, and I would bear it bravely, for the sake of my love.

I felt each paw lifted...a gentle pressure...heard a little snipping sound. There was no pain, no touching of a certain area. I opened my eyes to see the smiling face of Narim, to hear his gentle words... "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it, Schrodinger?"

I meowed in relief. "Now I won't have to worry about the furniture," he addressed his friend, finishing the job and allowing me to jump down.

Gratefully, I joined Patches.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my diary entries, nor "treats,"

nor any other recompense.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

To species far and near, in this galaxy and on all, I hereby proclaim that the issue of I, Schrodinger, and of Patches, has been born.

Yes, six little tiny bundles of joy have been birthed. I watch now as our furry little creations nestle into the side of my queen and their mother, seeking the swollen nipples and drinking of the sweet milk that is their sustenance. Such tiny "meows" I have never heard. Three are of the female sex, and three are male. Their colorings are rich and varied -- a bit of their mother here, a bit of their father there.

I tell you, they are ample cause for a swagger to my walk and a twitch to my whiskers. Narim, our person is likewise impressed. But although my queen can be sweet and docile, she is none of such when any of his species approach our brood, when she bares her teeth and utters cries that make even my fur to upend. Besides those times, she feeds and bathes them and is every bit the mother I knew she would be.

I must admit to craving a taste of the rich milk that flows from my beloved. When I approached her she first raised one lengthy eye whisker in question, but then acquiesced to my "strange" demand. One taste was sweet and wonderful, but it is not a partaking that I will request again.

I have heard a thing most perplexing: Sam, my ex-person, will visit when weaning is accomplished, and choose for herself one of our kittens. This has caused us much concern. Can such a one that offered up her only cat – one by the name of Schrodinger – be fit some time later to take unto herself another? I will discuss this at length with my queen, although it may be that we have no choice in the matter.

Such is the lot of our kind, and has been from the beginning of our domestication.


	6. Chapter 6

**A Grievous Loss**

_Sam's ex-cat, Schrodinger, chronicles Sam's visit to Narim._

Disclaimer: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my writings, nor "treats, nor

any other recompense.

I, Schrodinger, and my queen, Patches, peered through the bars at our kittens, giving comforting licks whenever a portion of our kittens' precious, furry little bodies came near.

"Caged, like pigs," hissed my love with disgust.

"Or dogs," I added. "Such is an affront to their dignity and to that of all our kind."

"Have they been told?" asked Patches, her ears twitching nervously.

"That they have," I replied, "although true understanding is lacking. They do know that one of their six will leave, and the rest remain. For now, at least." I rubbed my face against hers. "It is time," I reminded her.

"Yes," she replied, taking a deep breath. We gathered at the bars, tenderly giving the "paw of love" to each and every one, issue of our bodies and flesh of our flesh. Our hearts were close to breaking at the piteous mews from the tiny ones.

"Come," said I. "We must be brave." We crept to the door and looked around the corner.

"Is that your former person?" inquired Patches.

"It is she," I answered, peering around the corner at the woman who betrayed me a time previous.

"Sam," said our person Narim, smiling, "It's so good to see you. I'm glad you could carve out a little time from your mission to stop by."

"It's the last one I'll be going on, at least for a while, which is why I stopped in. And, of course, to pick up one of Schrodinger's kittens."

A low growl involuntarily escaped me. "Schrodinger!" my queen warned. "You said we must be brave!"

"I will persevere," I answered, regaining composure.

"...and I will be getting married soon," Sam finished.

"I envy him," said Narim, taking both of Sam's hands in his. "A kiss for the bride?" She nodded.

"Will they mate?" asked Patches, wide-eyed. I looked at her indulgently.

"No, my queen. Some time, when the kittens are asleep, I will tell of the ways of a man and a woman," I replied. "It is a good luck kiss. Sam has chosen a life mate," I explained. "As have I." I rubbed my body against the length of hers.

"You chose not," she reminded me. "I was given."

"And a true gift you were, and are," said I, licking her forehead.

"Who might he be, Sam's life mate?" asked Patches. "I seek to know since he will be our kitten's person along with Sam."

"I know not, but there is a Jack and there is a Daniel," I replied. "One is a man of authority, while the other has much knowledge, such as of times long past when cats were worshipped."

"In Egypt, when we were in our glory," said my queen, her whiskers twitching and her eyes closing. They opened again, quickly. "They approach!"

"Schrodinger! Well, look at you, a daddy!" said Sam, trying to take me into her arms. I evaded her easily. "You little devil, you!" She turned her attention to my queen. "And this is...Patches? She's beautiful." My queen, taken by this compliment, rubbed up against Sam's legs and purred. Sam reached down and scratched under Patch's chin.

In protest, I opened my mouth and gave forth a fierce caterwauling.

"_Gosh_! What's wrong with _him_, Narim?" Sam asked.

"Nothing's _wrong_ with him, Sam – he enjoys perfect health – but I think he's trying to tell you something," answered Narim, smiling.

"Why doesn't he just write it down?" said Sam, laughing, referring to my communication of some time past.

Now both of us caterwauled at this disparagement of our intelligence.

Narim just shook his head. "They're smarter than you think, Sam."

"Maybe," said Sam, clearly not convinced. "So...where's the kitties?"

They walked over to the cage, and we followed. Narim opened the top and Sam reached in. "Oh, they're so _cute_! And _soft_," said she, running her traitorous hands over the fur of our young. They tumbled over each other, eager for a touch.

"Not Little One...oh please, not Little One," pleaded Patches.

Sam picked up the tiniest of the litter in her hands and held her up for inspection. "They're all cute, but I think this one needs me," said Sam, stroking the little calico with one finger.

"What she needs is her mother," said I.

"The only not fully weaned," meowed her mother, her voice catching.

In protest, I stalked some distance away and turned my back to the people.

"Schrodinger! Little One is looking to you!" chastised my queen.

I struggled with my pride and anger for a moment. Then I turned to see our smallest in Sam's arms. She called to us. I answered, "Take our love with you, Little One!"

Then Sam turned and left.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my diary entries and writings, nor "treats," nor any other recompense.

**Gone**

They are gone. One by one, each and all, to homes far and near, our six kittens are gone.

It is thus, I understand, with all "pets." Their issue is taken – gently, with loving hands, to worthy homes, or forcibly with hands nefarious to meet a fate best left unimagined.

At least I, Schrodinger, and my queen, Patches, know that ours have found those -- whether Tolan, Nox, or earthling -- that will give what is every cat's right, that being ministrations of love, tasty food, warm and comfortable shelter, and a clean litter box always.

Absent the various and sundry sights and sounds of our frisking young, our home is still...too still. Our hearts ache, but we are strong, calico and tabby, proud and true to our kind. We will endure.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**A Lesson Learned**

Narim, our person, poured some dry bits into our bowls. "There," said he, "go to it, guys."

My queen winced at this distasteful misnomer, but still approached, as did I. One taste of the poor sustenance was more than enough.

"Where is the shredded liver, the chopped chicken, the braised beef to which we have become accustomed?" I demanded.

"I see it not," answered my love.

I walked over to the offending bag of "food." "Cool Kitty Weight Reduction Formula," read I, aloud. My ire was kindled. "This is an insult and an outrage!"

"It is said that when human males choose a life mate, their bellies soon increase in proportion to the contentment they find," said Patches, rubbing her face against my own and ending with a forehead lick. "In this our species are similar," she hinted.

I could have returned that her belly sways to the rhythm of her walk, but, being the gentleman that I am and in deference to her recent motherhood, I did not.

"Narim must be told this is unacceptable!" I declared, quickly seeking out my person in the living room, where he was perusing a book. My queen watched from afar.

I approached. First, I reached up as if to seek a lap. "Schrodinger, you want some lovin'?" inquired my person. My golden eyes met his brown ones. Then, with great deliberation and presence, I withdrew my paws, moved one short distance away, turned my back, and sprayed his leg. "What the...?" asked Narim, sniffing the air with distaste and feeling the moist material of his trousers. I smiled, keeping my back turned to emphasize my commentary.

There was brief silence. Then... "You know, I understand that neutered males are much less apt to spray," said he, meaningfully, to no one but, apparently, myself. My fur upended and I slunk away, tail between my legs, thinking again of the time recent when I was in mortal fear of my manhood.

"Your action bodes ill," commented my queen, when I returned forthwith to her around the corner. "I fear it may fire back."

"Backfire," I returned, glad to correct her for once. "But could it be worse?"

"Besides your meowing soprano and my finding myself without the pleasure of your company at the time of my next heat, I suppose it could not," said my mate, making her point well, to my chagrin. "We must find another way to communicate with our person."

"Not in writing, which, except in cases of extreme need, is prohibited by the Universal Code of Cats."

"No, although your need of me was extreme, and the letter justified," reminded my love, referring to a communiqué to my person of some time past, when I requested a mate.

I heard, but answered her not. "I will empty the food bag!" said I. I peered around the corner to the kitchen. "It is unattended."

Without further ado, I mustered my energy, then sprang forward. I leapt first to Narim's shoulder, then to the couch, which I used as a trampoline to the floor. I raced fast and furious around the room, banging headlong into objects, then slid around the corner into the kitchen. My prize was before me. With a mighty growl and a great leap, I hurled myself upon the bag of noxious nutrients, spilling much of the contents over half the floor before I finally came to rest in a far corner. My sides heaving, I surveyed the dastardly destruction proudly. I heard footsteps.

Narim stood with hands on hips, one foot tapping the floor. "That's it!" he declared, grabbing first me and then my love by the scruff and tossing us unceremoniously into a cold and uncomfortable bathroom.

The air was thick with Patches' accusatory silence. "I apologize not for my tactics," said I. "If one does not take a stand, then what follows...no catnip? No rabbit-fur mice?"

My queen's face registered horror. "He would not deny us our simple pleasures!" she asserted. "Would he?"

"One knows not," I replied. "There is a serious breach of trust already. More might be in the offing. I have a plan..."

My mate was "all ears."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A few hours later, Narim relented and allowed us to leave our bathroom "prison."

Shortly thereafter, we approached the offending bowls. "This is not a course of action I relish," said my queen, nose twitching at the stench of the foul food.

"Nor I, but desperate measures are required. Remember...eat very quickly and take few breaths between."

Patches nodded.

"It will be effectual as long as we take several bites of that houseplant as well," I reminded.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I will spare the gentle reader the details on what ensued on the dining room rug. Suffice it to say that a point was made, and a lesson learned – the former by our species, and the latter by the human species.

When Narim finally returned to the living room, my queen and I were stretched atop the couch pillows, basking in the afternoon sun and engrossed in a slow and luxurious grooming session. We paused and looked up at him with half-closed eyes.

"Okay, you win," uttered our person, sighing. "You'll get your usual food again." Then he left in defeat.

Patches reached out one paw to me and smiled. The rightful order of the universe had been restored.

oooo

O

Calling all kitty and cat owners! Has your kitten or cat done/continues to do, some very cute/strange/stupid (potentially harmful) things? Let me know, and if I use it in future chapters, I'll give credit at the end of the piece (that is, unless you and your feline wish to remain anonymous).


	8. Chapter 8

**They Call Me Schrodinger**

_Chapter 8____ "An Adventure Gone Awry." Schrodinger, Sam's ex cat, puts paw to pen, chronicling another episode of his life in the land of the Nox._

**Disclaimer**: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my writings, nor "treats," nor any other recompense.

Patches trembled with anticipation as she and I tensely awaited the opening of the door -- our means of escape and our ticket to freedom. When our person, Narim, finally went forth, we surreptitiously slid past him and around a corner.

"Oh, it is so beautiful!" cried my queen, her eyes full of the sights and sounds of the city, of the persons both Nox and Tolan coming and going. "So much better than a glimpse through a window!"

"Wait until you observe the forests beneath this city in the clouds, feel the yielding earth beneath your paws, and fill your nostrils with the scent of the primeval," said I.

I, Schrodinger, desired to share with my queen all that I knew of this wondrous world – the land of the Nox -- which she had previously observed only from the very limited confines of a cat carrier enroute to our abode. Our excursion would also serve as a means to teach my love the ways of the hunt, in which her knowledge and experience was sorely lacking.

We soon arrived at the transportation device. "Here we are, my love. Now, don't forget to..." I began, but before I could conclude, the device activated and we were transported in a moment's time. "...close your eyes," I finished in a whisper. The world swirled at a dizzying pace. I staggered, my front legs crossed, until my haunches found terra firma and I sat down heavily. Floating in the midst of a kaleidoscope of images, my mate's sweet face appeared. "Schrodinger!" I heard and saw it say, "Are you all right?" I groaned in reply.

After a time, during which my queen inquired solicitously numerous times concerning my state of health, I recovered and we continued our journey. I shared every landmark of my acquaintance in the wooded land – accompanied, of course, by the feats of daring and skill that had occurred at each said location. Patches was, on the whole, dutifully impressed.

"Great and terrible beings inhabit this world – the Fenri," said I, warming to my favorite story.

"I know, dear, you have shared before."

"Yes, of course," I replied, feeling slight annoyance at this curtailing of my tale. I did, however, consider it my duty to educate this cloistered cat, so I continued with a portion of the tale nonetheless. "When I was attacked by the terrible winged being, I was stalking a ..."

At this moment we were startled by a sharp squawk from a nearby bush, interrupting my instruction. Instinctively, I slunk into hunting mode, flexing my strong muscles beneath my thick coat, creeping forward with much cunning and stealth toward the bird that would be soon be my prize and prey.

Suddenly, there came a flurry of activity and ear-shattering avian cries. I felt myriad sharp and relentless nips of pain. Wincing, I lowered my head against the onslaught, ultimately seeking refuge inside a rotted log. The cries soon stopped. It was then that I remembered. "Patches!" I called out.

Her shadowed face appeared outside the hollow wherein I had sought haven. "Schrodinger? I am unhurt," she said in reply. "The two birds that attacked you were defending their young. Their nest is in the bush we walked past."

_Of course_, thought I. How could I have been so unaware? A hunter's senses and instincts must be carefully honed and at peak every moment. Mine were not. I chose not to comment on my unconscionable lapse. "Perhaps we can find the squirrel about which I was going to tell you, or one of his brothers," said I, emerging from the log with as much dignity as I could muster.

A brief distance away we had the good luck, or so it seemed, to spy said squirrel. I engaged in hot pursuit, my queen following close behind, as instructed. Although my breath came in ragged gasps, I was invigorated by the chase – the experience for which every feline is born, for which we should yearn with all our being.

The rodent scurried up a tall trunk, with me, Schrodinger the Great Hunter, close at his heels. Closer, ever closer, came I to my juicy prey... my jaws opened... just one short second longer... but then my paws did not my bidding, and I was falling, falling, for a moment that seemed an eternity, before I met the hard ground with a thud. What humiliation! What ignominy! What _pain!_

Once again, the face of my mate appeared before me, this time looming large above. I saw concern in her features, which was welcome, but also that which bordered on sympathy, which most definitely was not.

"Perhaps Narim cut your nails too short?" suggested Patches, raising her well-whiskered brow, seeking no doubt to mend my wounded ego.

"Or perhaps this mate of yours is a failure. That seems the simpler explanation," said I, disgruntled with my lack of success. I rose to my feet slowly, stretching my limbs to test for broken bones. The squirrel that would have been meat to us chittered his taunts in the tree above.

Patches engaged my eyes for a moment. "When those of the human species hunt, do they always bring home prey?" I limped a few paces away, but she pursued. "And when they fish, is the net always full?" I answered not, for a moment dwelling upon the remembered taste and aroma of such in my food dish. "Is it?" she insisted.

"Enough!" I exclaimed. Although she spoke truth, I still felt the need to glory in my self-deprecation, a penance for my failings. My empty belly growled, as most likely hers did as well -- tangible reminders of my shortcomings as provider.

I continued, my voice edged with disdain, "I, Schrodinger, the Great Hunter? Bah! Son of Zipper, the terrible tiger, and Ginger, the long-haired tabby? I was a fool to think myself equal to my heritage."

But my mate, encircling me about, continued her persistent haranguing. "You are kind, and caring, and a wonderful father, unlike countless felines. You are Schrodinger the Great, if not Schrodinger the Great Hunter, and I am Patches of equal fame." Her walk was now stiff-gaited with pride. She was winning me over with her wiles. "And considering your ill-advised misnomer... which is the greater fool – the fool himself, or the one who loves the fool?" she demanded.

I stopped, touched by the words of my queen. Reaching out the "paw of love," she gently brushed off a few pieces of woodsy debris from my back. Never had her golden, glinting eyes, brighter than any sunrise, her pink-splashed nose, her soft-as-moss cheeks, seemed so beautiful. I was indeed a lucky feline.

"Your points are well taken, 'Patches the Great,'" said I. "You are wise beyond your years."

We strolled back to our abode in companionable silence, stopping now and then to gift one another with tender head rubs or loving licks. This time I rode the transport device with ease, confidently stepping off the platform.

Approaching our dwelling, I gave voice to enter. The door opened forthwith.

"Schrodinger! Patches! I was afraid something happened to you two!" uttered our person, Narim.

"Something did," meowed my queen. I twitched my whiskers in acquiescence.


	9. Chapter 9

**They Call Me Schrodinger**

_Chapter 9: Schrodinger scratches the itch to write with "Fleas!" _

Disclaimer: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my writings, nor "treats," nor any other recompense.

I, Schrodinger, was infested with the bane of a feline's existence – fleas. "Come not near, my love, or your fate will be similar," I warned Patches, scratching at breakneck speed.

"Schrodinger, I'm so sorry you contracted fleas from our recent adventure," sympathized my queen. "I have never had the experience, being always an indoor cat." Her eyes widened as my amber fur rippled furiously in a vain attempt to dislodge the irritating insects.

"And hopefully you never will," I enjoined. "One can only hope that our person, Narim, possesses adequate powers of observation, and has the means wherewith to end my suffering."

It was at that moment that I heeded Narim's urgent call from the kitchen. "Schrodinger, oh Schrodinger, come here, boy!"

"Schrodinger, there is a _machine!" _my queen called out, peeking around the corner. I bounded past her, then screeched to a halt before a tall, metallic contraption on wheels, replete with numerous dials, buttons, and levers.

Narim was muttering under his breath, "Let's see, now... I've got this set for 'minute life forms,' it's in 'kill' mode... there! I think we're good to go." The tall, dark man cleared his throat and addressed me in his usual condescending albeit well-meaning tone of voice. "Schrodinger, I think we can get rid of those fleas that've been bothering you, boy. This machine will get 'em for you."

I looked doubtfully at the mechanism before me. But then a black speck appeared atop my nose. My golden eyes criss-crossed. The insolence of these creatures! I sat down dutifully and meowed politely. It was worth a try. Anything was better than the present state of affairs.

"Here goes!" The machine whirred to life, white lights pulsing. It was then that, in the human vernacular, "All hell broke loose." A red bulb flashed, acrid smoke billowed, and a shrill, ear-piercing noise filled the air. I raced about, nearly mad from the sound, wanting, needing, for it to end. I took a valiant leap to my person's shoulder, my fur upended, my tail bushed in fright, holding on for dear life, begging by my helter-skelter actions for Narim to stop the awful din.

Narim was shouting, trying to dislodge me. My skin crawled with myriad movements. Could it be? Yes! The fleas were vacating my body en masse, unfortunately hopping onto the nearest available alternate host – my person. I leapt down and watched, eyes bulging, as he danced about the room, arms flying, shouting strange utterances before slamming the back door open and racing outside. The maniac machine wound down and stopped with a puff of smoke and a little "Pffft!"

I looked around to find Patches laughing, rolling on the floor and waving her white paws in the air. "What, woman!" I demanded, my dignity in disarray as I approached my queen.

"Thank you for some most enjoyable entertainment, Schrodinger!" said my queen, wiping her tears away with a swipe of her furry paw.

For a moment, I was torn between irritation at her amusement and an appreciation for the scene that had previously played out. "I suppose it afforded you a light moment."

"Yes, and you, a chance to rid yourself of your plague," answered my love.

"I hope Narim comes back soon, similarly cured," said I. My queen, regaining her composure, agreed.

I was feeling increasingly remorseful, thinking of the claw marks that no doubt now decorated my person's shoulder.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Narim was finally back in our dwelling, sans fleas. Or, at least, live ones. He collapsed on the couch, one arm dangling over the edge.

I approached meekly and hesitatingly, wanting to communicate my sorrow for any injuries inadvertently inflicted. Tenderly, I licked his open hand, giving him myriad "kisses."

"Schrodinger, are you okay?" asked Narim. He reached down and drew me up onto his chest. "I guess we got 'em, didn't we, boy?" I meowed in agreement. Through the thin material of his shirt, I could vaguely see some small, bloody marks. Feelings for this my person welled up inside me. I stared into his brown eyes, then slowly, and with great deliberation, gifted him with the "paw of love."

"I love you, too, Schrodinger," said my person, taking paw in hand and smiling.


	10. Chapter 10

**They Call Me Schrodinger**

_Chapter 10, "Happy Birthday to Me." Schrodinger, Sam's ex cat, relates the night of his fourth birthday.  
_

**Disclaimer:** I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my writings, nor "treats," nor any other recompense.

The clock struck two a.m., a time when those of the human species are fast asleep, a special and precious time to those of the feline species.

I, Schrodinger, awoke to the entreaties of my queen. "Are you hungry, my darling? Would you like to play "Go Bonkers" or "Bat the Mousie?"

Usually such amusements held much allure. But this night, remembering the date, I was in a foul mood indeed. I turned away from my companion. "No," I answered rudely. "Amuse yourself." My chin slumped to my paws.

She flinched at my words. "But, Schrodinger, it is your birthday. We must celebrate!" My queen moved close. "Perhaps my king would enjoy a grooming?" Her eyebrow whiskers moved upwards.

I answered not. She hesitated but a moment, and then began her ministrations without further ado. I sighed deeply. "I am but an old tom, past my prime."

"My darling, you are but four."

"To your one, my queen, to your one. My whiskers are white," I moaned.

"Have they not always been so?" asked my love, puzzled at my words. I silently cursed her acute sense of observation.

"Perhaps so, but see this face, so grizzled..." She put forth a fair length of rough tongue to my muzzle, bowing my mouth upwards into a lopsided grin and transforming one of my eyes into a mere slit. When my countenance returned to normal, I "complained," "Cannot a cat enjoy a sulk undisturbed on his birthday, female?"

"Not when he's mine, he can't!" returned my queen. My best efforts had been sabotaged. "Schrodinger, my darling... for gift I have naught. All that we have comes from our person, Narim..."

I gazed upon the sweet visage of my mate. "Your love is more than sufficient gift," said I, softly.

"Then happy birthday, Schrodinger," my queen purred.


	11. Chapter 11

**They Call Me Schrodinger**

Sam's ex-cat once again puts paw to pen and writes Chapter 11: That "Loaded" Question

Disclaimer: I, Schrodinger, receive not monies from these my writings, nor "treats," nor any other recompense.

My love had of late seemed distant and somewhat ill-tempered, yet answered not when I inquired as to the cause of such. Although I spent an extra ten minutes, and consumed considerable more fur than usual in an extended groom of my love, yet I received only a perfunctory one in return, given in silence.

When she turned down a perfectly good offer to play "Bat the Mousie," my ire was kindled. "Out with it, feline!" said I, tired of this strange game.

Finally Patches inquired, "Schrodinger... have there been others before me?" The question hit me, in the human vernacular, "like a ton of bricks," in the middle of a supplementary grooming to augment the less-than-satisfactory one of my mate. I stopped briefly, and then, not willing to meet her golden eyes, continued my task.

"And what kind of a question is that, my love?"

She moved in front of me and sat down purposefully. "An honest one, Schrodinger."

"My love," I answered, not wanting to perjure myself and yet unwilling to get into the –ahem – subject too deeply, "one must remember that it was a long time ago, when I as a young tom roamed the out-of-doors."

"And?"

"And... my love, there was the impetuousness, the lust of youth in me. They meant nothing."

"They?"

"I can't even remember their names, my love," I answered in a conciliatory tone. _None except Fluffy, and Boots, and Blackie, and Darlene, and..._

Patches' little mews brought me out of my reverie. Such a piteous sight she was, her ears and tail down-turned, her whiskers a-quivering. My heart touched, I moved alongside to give a comforting full-body rub, but she quickly recovered, jumped away, and, losing my balance, I fell to the floor. My sweet Patches became a little spit-fire. "There will be no grooming session tonight. If you want one, do it yourself," she announced tersely.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Needless to say, during the next several days, domestic bliss did not reign. Not receiving the respect and love of my queen was a humiliating and hurtful experience, to say to the least. Even our person, Narim, noticed the change in Patches. Normally she would purr in abundance at his touch, but now she was silent. After one such unresponsive moment, he inquired, "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" and then, amused at his attempt at hilarity, laughed. Neither my queen nor I thought it humorous. It did, however, provide fodder for conversation.

"I noticed our person's pitiful attempt at humor, at your expense," I noted, meeting up with her at our shared food bowl.

"Yes," she briefly replied, continuing to eat.

I sighed. "Patches, my love, do you believe a feline can change, or is he or she forever doomed to a life of dissipation and shame?"

She hesitated a moment. "Of course not, Schrodinger. All sentient creatures can think, make rational choices, and change."

"Am I the only exception, then?" Before she could answer, I rushed on. "I have indeed changed, as you full well know. I have been a good life mate and father, as you yourself have testified." Patches was silent. Silent and sad. "Would it not be beneficial to forgive and forget, to dwell not on the past, and therefore not waste the present and the future?" My logic was not arguable, but the heart could not always be won by logic. "Please, my dear. My life has been empty without you, and it will continue so if you withhold your love and affection."

"Oh, Schrodinger, I have been miserable these last few days," Patches admitted. "Prideful and miserable. May we start anew?"

"With pleasure, my love." This time the full-length body rub that I bestowed was met with sweet enthusiasm.


End file.
